':. '<- ... ....-:::. . I!: '.. r(;;f: '> .t: ::: i( : 12 :@ :-'..;.. ..if ...;: -- 11{;' .,: '$.' "/,..::"'" ...::':); . -: .,;;. : Itil(i ,>: . "S:, .. ': ^'.. flt \ ^i. " . \\ { ;::: $("" ',. . :,%',,::;, . . . .' ...::::::: :::::-:-:.::;,::..:::;.:-:-;.:.:.:.:::. .....:.:......-:-...:..:-:.;.:...,:-.-..:.:.:-: ......:.:........... .:-::>: t . . , ;,;:fi- ,- "'0;,\ ....... ? -, , \t <:':'::::':i:it%$.Æ: ; i::: I ' h<: ' :\:::::,:. ';.; }: ::'\:;:>>-:. . .<.:.,:.:- j : "- "Shouldn't he have caught that?" . reading. You probably didn't know, for instance, that the I.R.T. is permitted to run one smoking car on every train, or that it can carry freight. And even if you're not interested in smoking cars or freight cars, you'll be intrigued by the extra-fare clause: "The Contractor may provide additional conveniences for such passengers as shall desire the same upon not to exceed one (1) car upon each train, and may collect from each passenger in such car a reasonabl. charge for such additional conveniences furnished him." The additional con- veniences aren't specified; we like to let our imagination play with the idea of porters in crisp white jackets, \Vhite Rock, and little individual bottles of Scotch. Translatzon T wo pretty young matrons, lunch- ing Saturday at the Plaza, were poring earnestly over the menu. "1 don't know why it's called (vol-au- vent,' " one of them was heard to say. . "And the translation doesn't help- 'gone with the wind.' " Designing Man I F somebody should ask you who is the busiest stage designer in the city, you'd practically have to say "Donald O 1 " .. " 0 ens ager, pronouncIng It . wen- slayger." He probably set some kind of a record last month, when four Broadway productions of his design- ing opened in two weeks: "Stage Door," "Ten Million Ghosts," "Sweet River," and "Red, Hot and Blue!" He did sets for three of the Novem- ber openings: "Two Hundred \Vere Chosen," "Johnny Johnson," "Mat- rimony Pfd." And he has also been mixed up in three plays scheduled for December, which are stil1 a little vague as to name and date. .A nd he's pub- lished a book called "Scenery, Then and Now" (about scenery, then and now). In December, the Marie Ster- ner Galleries will have a showing of Oenslager drawings for stage de- NOVEMDER 2.8. 193' signs. Throughout the preparations for all this, Oenslager has been lectur- ing twice a week to classes at Yale, w here he is Associate Professor of Scenic Design. Quite a fellow, the Professor. Oenslager occupies modest bachelor quarters on East Seventy-ninth Street, and there we called on him, delaying only heaven knows what contributions to the drama. He turned out to be a tall, excited young man with a plump, rosy face. When he's talking to you, he twists and coils himself around his chair, in a way calculated to drive you nuts. He told us that his father was a doctor, that he was born in Harris- burg, Pennsylvania, in 1902, and that he went to Yale, where he studied with Professor Baker in the 4 7 Workshop. In 1925 he came to New York and, after one stage appearance-he was an extra in a production of "Desire U n- der the Elms" -settled right down to scene-designing. That's all he has done for the past ten years---.,design sets, write about designing, and theorize ahout designing for the benefit of his Yale classes. Of his recent offerings, Oenslager most enjoyed doing "Sweet River," George Abbott's stylized Tom show. "I like Americana things," he says. He'd as Soon do designs for a musical comedy as for an opera or a ballet. He worries a lot about the use of color; several seasons ago, he designed dark- blue sets for "Forsaking All Others," to prove that comedy need not always be played against light sets Travels a lot, in the summer, and gets ideas from native theatres in China and Japan. This summer it's to be India or Tibet. Bedtime is seldom earlier than two in the morning, and he rises at seven. He always dresses up and goes to the openings of his shows, which lately has turned into a pretty severe round of first-nIghting. He doesn't know just how long he'll be able to keep it up. Haunted T EN days ago a Mr. \Vallace, a blameless insurance man, was standing on the corner of Forty-sixth Street and Sixth Avenue with an un- lighted cigarette in his mouth, fumbling for a match. A small, dark man in a gray hat and a chesterfield, a perfect stranger to Mr. Wallace, came up and said, "Here, I have some." Told Mr. Wallace to keep them; he had plenty. The next day Mr. Wallace and the small, dark man met in front of the Pub-